Welcome to Wonderland
by Melandune
Summary: Things aren't always as they seem, she knows this. What she doesn't know is just how deep the rabbit hole goes...
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Never did, and unfortunately never will…

**Chapter 1**

Oh the pain. My entire body was aching and head was throbbing as I slowly turned over onto my back. The fading sunlight was just bright enough that it did not hurt my eyes as I started up at the sky. It seemed like the sky itself was lit on fire, a sensation that was only heightened by fact that I could smell something burning. Out of the corner of my eye I could see smoke billowing up from somewhere beyond the line of trees. Somewhere off in that direction, something was burning. Yet I could did not care. While my ears were ringing slightly, I could hear no screams that would indicate that something was wrong. Perhaps it was a large bonfire, perhaps not.

I lay on the ground for what felt like forever, just staring up at the sky. All sense of time escaped me as the pain dulled my senses. I attempted to move a few times, but each time the dizziness discouraged me and the pain seemed less when I lay still. After what seemed like an age, I heard something. A whooshing sound that was shortly followed by voices. I thought of calling for help, but I was unsure if the voices belonged to people who were hostile. Fighting the dizziness, I slowly got up. Once I had managed to get on my knees, I waited for the increased throbbing to subside enough for me to head towards the voices.

My muscles ached as I slowly made my way through the undergrowth of the forest. Ferns almost as tall as I was surrounded me, which was good. This way I could get closer to the voices and still be undetected. As I got closer to the road I could see ahead, I crouched down so that I was covered by the ferns. I could see two people ahead of me as I got closer. Both were men with their backs turned against me, one tall with dreads pulled back from his face and the other with darker hair. There was something familiar with them, but I could not put my finger on it. Slowly creeping closer, I could hear one of them talking. I was still a small distance away from the road when the tall man pulled out a gun, aiming it in my direction. My heart, that had been beating like mad as I had tried to quietly sneak closer, was now beating even harder. A few moments passed before the man lowered his gun, and I let out a breath I had not even been aware I had been holding.

Deciding to approach with more caution, I tried to be careful with my movements, but my muscles were screaming in pain from all the tension. It was then that my body started failing me. The pain I had pushed aside was starting to make itself known again, refusing to be ignored. As I tried to get even closer, I felt a stab of pain rush through my body. I nearly cried out from the intense pain, but holding it back, it came out as a moan instead. But it was loud enough to catch the attention of the men. They were both aiming guns in my general direction. The dark haired man reached into a pocket, taking something out and looking at it. I froze where I stood as the dark haired man silently signalled the tall man to head in the opposite direction that he was going.

My heart was beating so hard that it felt like it would burst from my chest. I was crouched, trying to remain still, but I could feel my legs starting to give in. I closed my eyes and tried to remain some sense of control over my body, but to no avail. I could not help but to yelp as my legs buckled and the pain made my eyes tear. I lay there, tears rolling down my cheeks as I heard the two both head for my position. I had no choice but to pray that they would be good guys and help me. I opened my eyes as I heard one of the men approach me, but my vision was blurred by tears. Even though everything was blurry, I could tell that it was the dark haired one. He called something out to the other man as I felt the pain start to overwhelm me. Everything started to darken as he scooped me up into his arms. The last thing I remembered before passing out was whimpering from the pain.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

There was a bright light. At first it was almost blinding, but it was not long before my eyes started adjusting. I could hear sounds nearby, but I could not make what or who was the source. Then there was the pain, duller than before, but there still. My body felt as if it was floating. My mind was foggy. _Am I dead?_ I wondered as I once more sank into the embrace of darkness.

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My entire body felt sluggish as I woke up. My brain felt muddled as I lay on my back, blinking up at the ceiling. Turning my head slightly to the side, I could see that I was in a large pristine room with a multitude of devices among the many beds rowed up along the wall. The other beds were empty, and no one else was around. It was all so quiet except for the steady beeping coming from one of the machines near my bed. The constant beeping combined with the silence soon lulled me back to sleep.

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The next time I woke I could hear voices. The sound was muffled, so I assumed that there was someone another room nearby. Feeling tired and fatigued still, I closed my eyes and started to once more drift off to sleep. But just as I had almost managed to fall asleep, I heard someone enter the room. Opening one eye, I watched as someone neared my bed. It was not one of the two men I had seen in the forest, but he too seemed familiar. I closed my eye as he reached my bed. I could hear him pick something up and walk up to one of the machines near my bed, because I could hear buttons being pressed. Building up some courage, I opened my eyes and was met by a sight that I had not been expecting. Yet there he was; the spitting image of doctor Carson Beckett. I could not help but to stare at him. Surely my mind was playing some sort of trick on me. What else could it be? It would be unlikely that some friends somehow managed to hire the actor just to play some sort of trick on me, or if it was part of some sort of bad candid camera show. I tried to rub my eyes, to see if what I was seeing was some sort of hallucination, but I was unable to bend my right arm as I felt a sharp pain, causing me to groan from the pain.

"Oh, you're up" he said as he turned around, having heard me. My eyes widened and I felt like a deer caught in the headlights. _That Scottish accent! No, it can't be…can it?_ The shock must have been visible, because he was telling me in that mesmerizing accent of his that it was alright and that I was safe now. I opened my mouth to say something, but my mind was blank and I was left speechless. Beckett, or the man who bore an uncanny resemblance to the character, missed my ever so graceful staring as he put down whatever it had been he had been holding. He walked over to my bed and started to examine the needle in the crook of my arm first as I was unconsciously rubbing it.

"May I?" he asked as he took hold of my arm and gently straightened it out, inspecting the area where needle penetrate my skin. He carefully poked the area with his fingers before moving on to checking up on the other injuries I had. I could not tear my eyes away from him as I watched him giving my wounds and bruises a check-up. His touch was soft and gentle as he pushed away the blanket over me to inspect a small gash I had on my left thigh, all the while I stared at him, still unsure if this was all real. Once done checking the various bumps and bruises I had somehow gotten on my body, he helped me to sit up. My head felt quite heavy and my body sluggish. Once in a sitting position, I felt slightly dizzy while he turned my head slightly, pushing back my hair to checked a wound I had apparently gotten on the left side of my head. By the feel of the gentle prodding, it was a bit above my ear. Replacing the dressing on my head wound, he brought out a small flashlight and shone it in my left eye and then my right. While he did so, I noticed just how blue his eyes were. I had sometimes thought them to be grey, or at least blue-grey. Blinking as my eyes adjusted back from the brightness of the flashlight, I shook my head slightly as if to shake the strange thoughts from my mind, yet feeling as if my head weight a ton, this only made me woozy. _This cannot be. He is not Beckett, he can't be._ It had to be some sort of hallucination, or a strange dream. But it was just so hard to ignore the fact that the man before me looked just like him. Everything from his clothes to his accent were identical to the Beckett I had seen on the show.

"There, all done" he said, interrupting my train of thought as he helped me lay down again. Getting out a syringe, he filled it with some liquid and injected it into the IV that was attached to my arm. Confused, I looked up at him wondering about what he had just injected me with. However, it was not long before I had my answer. My eyes started feeling heavier by the moment as I sank into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter**** 3**

I was once more greeted by the sight of the ceiling as I came to again after who knows how long time. I felt disoriented and could barely think coherently since the anaesthesia was starting to wear off. I closed my eyes as the light hurt my eyes, feeling slightly nauseous. Yet I could not help but to wonder when it was last I ate anything. Drifting between sleep and wakefulness for quite some time, I finally felt the dizziness subside as whatever drug they had given me made its way through my system. Feeling well enough, I started to take a look around again. Unlike the first time, the room was not empty. I could see two people standing on the other side of the room, talking. I watched as the two went about their business, talking and laughing a bit even. Observing the two interact only resulted in me feeling lonely, especially since I had no idea where I was and why I was here. Yet while part of me wanted to know, the other part of me feared the answers to those questions. Turning away, I went back to starting at the ceiling.

While I started at nothing, I tried to figure out what the hell had happened to land me here in a hospital bed. I could only remember fragments of a forest, fire and darkness. As much as I pushed myself, I could not remember any more. Giving up on remembering more, I focused my attention to recollecting the man who looked and sounded just like Carson Beckett. Now that he was no longer here, I felt unsure if he had not been a figment of my imagination after all. As real as it might have seemed and felt, it could still only have been a vivid hallucination. Perhaps I have been in some accident or suffered from some sickness and this is the hospital where they are treating me. Pondering on this, I came up with many scenarios which could have resulted in me being hospitalized, though not all of the scenarios were probable.

Noticing movements in the corner of my eye, I turned my head and saw as someone approached me. It was one of the two women I had seen talking earlier. She had a stethoscope around her neck and wore a white lab coat which meant that she was a doctor. Perhaps she could answer some questions for me. If nothing else, she would be able to help me with the headache that just would not go away.

"Hello" she said, once she looked up from whatever it was she was holding in her arms and saw that I was awake. I tried to respond, but I found myself unable to speak. She had noticed my attempt to speak, but must have thought me unable to speak due to being parched since she handed me a glass of water. Taking the glass of water, I took a sip while she watched me. Her gaze made me uncomfortable so I continued taking sips until I had finished drinking all of the water. Handing back the glass, I tried to speak while she was looking away. Yet the result was the same. I just could not seem to utter a word. Growing frustrated, I managed to let out a growl.

"Is anything wrong?" the woman asked me. Frowning, I pointed to my throat in hope of her understanding me. "Oh, still thirsty?" she asked, reaching for the glass she had just put down. My frustration rising, I shook my head, refusing to accept the water she was holding out for me. This time I tried pointing to my mouth while I tried to mouth that I could not speak.

"I don't understand what you're trying to say" Again and again I pointed to my throat and mouth, as well as trying to get my point across by shaking my head while doing 'yak-yak'-signs with one of my hands while touching my throat with the other. _Oh, please understand me_. I felt as if I would start crying if she did not understand me soon. I hoped that she would understand my gestures, praying even.

"You can't speak, is that what you're trying to say?" she said hesitantly. Oh thank heavens, I thought as I nodded. I once again pointed to my throat with one hand, spreading the fingers of the other hand and doing a twisting motion. The female doctor did not seem to understand my gestures, which left me trying to quickly think up some other way of communication. Snapping my fingers, I held up one finger before once again doing the 'yak'-motion with my hand. I then tugged on my ear and pretended to die in an overly dramatic way including splutters and a final breath. _I truly hope she's good at charades_ I thought to myself as I staged my little death scene.

Looking up at the woman, I saw the confused look on her face and felt my hopes starting to crumble. I tried to give her a pleading look, praying for her to know what I was trying to say. Once again I held up one finger, followed by the hand motion and then pointed to my ear. _Come on damn you. A word that sounds like die!_ I stared at her, hoping that somehow I would be able to send her my thoughts. But it was all to no avail as the woman just gave me an apologetic look and said that she was sorry, but she did not understand me. Pegging her for a lost cause, I sank back into the bed and started at the ceiling. I could feel the frustration slowly be replaced as a sense of hopelessness overtook me. Feeling tears starting to sting my eyes, I shut them and hoped to wake up in my own bed. I prayed that this was all a bad dream. That I was still in my own house and able to speak.

Unable to sleep, I gave in to melancholy and stared up at the ceiling once again. My eyes had dried up from the tears I had not been able to stop, and since there was little else to look at in the room, the ceiling was the only thing that could stare at without having to lie in an uncomfortable position or risking jabbing myself with the IV-needle that was still attached to my arm.

"Oh good, you're awake" Slowly turning my eyes to the source of the words, I felt as if my heart had skipped a beat. Had I been able to speak, I would have been stuttering out an 'it's you, it's really you'. But as I could not do such a thing, I had to settle for my eyes widening. There he was, dressed in a white coat and with a stethoscope around his neck. Beckett.

"I've brought you something to eat" he said, putting down the tray he had been holding. I was still shocked at him being there. I had given into the thought that he had been nothing more than a figment of my imagination. But here he was, in the flesh. "I've got you some soup" he said, pushing the small stand closer so that I would be able to sit up and eat. Once in an upright position, I reached out to grab the spoon but stopped as ended up staring at my own hand. Frowning, I looked at my other hand as well. How strange, my hands did not look the same. Rather, they looked the same, but not as they had looked before, before I somehow ended up in this bed. _How come I didn't notice this before?_ Pushing away my covers, I looked at my legs. They were changed as well. Gone were the legs I once had, replaced by a pair of small legs that looked like they belonged to a child. The same went for my hands. My manicured nails were replaced by the short nails of a kid. _No, no this can't be happening_ I thought, looking down at my chest and abdomen where my once curvy shape was replaced by the slender form of a pre-pubescent girl.

"Are you alright?" Beckett asked. I shook my head as I felt panic starting to set in. _This can't be. This is not happening. This is all a bad dream_. My hands started to shake as I gave in to tears, the panic taking over. Before I knew it, Beckett had his arm around me, trying to calm me down. But it was to no use as I clung to him, sobbing and shaking my head in disbelief. "There, there sweetheart. It's gonna be okay. You're safe here. No one is going to hurt you"

Eventually when the tears stopped falling, I still held on to Beckett. I had no idea what was happening, or why it was happening, but I doubted that the outcome would be good. If this is all real, then it meant that I was stuck here on what could be Atlantis. Not only that, but I was stuck in the shape of a child and I could not speak. _This is bad. This can't be real_. I could still not wrap my head around this. It was all too surreal to even consider it to be possible. There were many questions that needed answers, yet I could barely ask one without difficulties. _At least I'm not stupid enough to start saying that things can't get worse. Things can always get worse. And it's useless to start wondering 'why me'… Ai, this was depressing and aggravating at once_. It felt as if everything was spinning, not only the thoughts inside my head, but the room as well. I screwed my eyes shut and pressed my face against Beckett's chest.

"Feeling better" Beckett asked softly. I was tempted to shake my head, but remained as I was instead. I felt like asking him how the hell he would feel if he suddenly woke up in the body of a child and in a sci-fi TV-show all of a sudden. But I could not speak, could I. _Damn it all_, I thought as I started hiccupping. _See, it can always get worse_. Pulling away from me, Beckett filled the glass on the stand next to my bed with water.

"Here, this should help" he said, offering me the glass. Giving him a nod as thanks, I took the glass and drank. While Beckett took back the now empty glass and put it back on the stand, I sank down once again in the bed. I could not help but to wonder what to do. Where would I go from here? Would I have to rely on trying to make myself understood through charades? Perhaps I could ask for something to write with… Yes, I could do that. I could ask for a pen and paper! Looking up at Beckett, I could feel the hope within rising once more. As his back was turned to me, I tugged on his robe.

"Yes?" Hoping that he was better than the woman from earlier, I set out to ask for a pen and paper. I opened my left hand, palm side up, and pretending to hold a pen in my right while acting as if I was writing. At first he seemed a bit confused, but I could almost see as something clicked and he exclaimed "You want some pen and paper". Smiling and nodding, I felt my heart fluttering with hope as Beckett went in search for some writing materials.

Returning shortly, Beckett handed me a pen and a writing pad. Pausing for a moment, I thought about what to write first. _Name, I've got to write my name. And perhaps ask for help and ask how I got here. Yes, that seems good_ I thought as I started writing my name and plea for help, as well as asking where I was and how I had gotten there. _Better be on the safe side_, I thought as I held up the paper and waited for a response. Taking the writing pad, Beckett looked at it. He seemed to be studying it as he even squinted and tilted his head a bit while looking at the paper.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand this" he said, handing the pad back. I was momentarily stunned by this. I had written everything clearly and perfectly legible. How could he not have understood? I looked down at what I had written; only this time, instead of seeing the letters I had written, I could only see scribbles. Frowning, I tried writing my name again. But it was to no avail, it came out as scribbles. No matter what I tried writing, the result was the same. _Oh no. No, no, no_. I felt my heart sinking. This could not be happening. _Funny, I've used that phrase surprisingly many times in such a short time_…I thought ruefully to myself. Closing my eyes for a moment, I took a few deep breaths before opening them again.

Beckett looked apologetic and slightly worried, so I tried to smile at him. After all, it was not his fault. He did not even have to bring me soup, but he did. Because that was the type of person he was, at least that is the type of person he seemed on the show. Looking down at the pad that was now lying in my lap, I picked it up and drew a figure sitting by a desk, looking as if its head was resting on the desk – at least until I drew a few lines to represent motion.

"What's that?" Beckett's question had startled me. I had almost forgotten that he was still there. He was looking over my shoulder, pointing at the sketch I had made. "Who's that supposed to be then?" Shocked, I blinked up at him before it hit me. He could understand what I was drawing. I had sort of expected it to look like scribbles to him after the attempt to write. Snapping out of the slight daze, I pointed at the figure, and then at myself.

"I see" he said, looking puzzled. He did not understand, I thought as I started tapping the pen against the pad. This was starting to get frustrating… _Hold on a sec!_ I thought as I sketched up the picture of a single stick figure on a desolate island with a palm tree. Pausing for a moment, I then proceeded to add a fire with smoke coming from it. The smoke billowed up as three round clouds, followed by three elongated clouds and then three more round clouds. Starting to tap the Morse code, I watched Beckett as I did so, repeating the sequence again and again. It took a little while, but it finally clicked for him.

"SOS?" he asked, eyebrows raised in disbelief. I nodded, pointing to the figure and then to myself. _Oh, please understand this. I need your help_ I thought, hoping that Beckett would at least understand my plea for help. If nothing else, he should start wondering how I knew the particular distress signal that I was tapping. While he initially looked a bit stunned, Beckett was now starting to frown. Taking the pad, he took a closer look at it and tearing out the page, he said he would be back in a bit. I could feel my heart beating in anticipation as I watched Beckett leave. Did this mean that he had understood my meaning? What would happen to me now? What if I really was on Atlantis? If I was, what would happen then? Would it be just like the show, and would the events take place just as the episodes showed? And knowing what I know, should I tell them of the things to come?

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Author's Note: Thought I'd be nice and upload this chapter before I go off on my trip to London. Hope you enjoy it. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

As time slowly passed, I got more and more nervous waiting for the return of Beckett. Deciding to keep myself distracted, I took up the pen and bit the end of it while pondering what to draw. Unable to decide on one thing, I just let my hand work free, doodling small sketches of the Pyramids, of the Eye of Horus, and the head of Homer Simpson. Smiling while thinking of fond memories of watching The Simpsons, I filled in his two strands of hair on the top of his head. Drawing Homer improved my mood, and served well as a good source of distraction as I continued sketching some of my more favourite characters. I did a semi-detailed picture of an elf from Lord of the Rings and I was working a more detailed sketch of Dr Daniel Jackson when Beckett returned. Looking up, I saw that behind him were none other Dr Weir and Sheppard. My eyes widening in shock, I watched as the three made their way to my bed.

"This is Dr Weir and Lt. Col. Sheppard" Beckett said, having paused as I imagined him suddenly realizing that he did not know my name. "They have a couple of questions they would like to ask you". Turning my attention from Beckett, I could not help but to stare at Weir and Sheppard. It was them, it was really them. My heart was starting to race as the thought sank in. I was here, with them, and this was all real…

"Yes, now that you know our names, it would only seem right to know yours, wouldn't you agree" Weir said. Glancing from her to the other two, I franticly tired to think of a way to tell them my name, but I was drawing a blank. How the hell would I be able to tell them my name if I could not write it? Biting on my lower lip, I struggled to think of anything I could draw that would give them at least a nudge in the right direction.

"You do remember your own name, right?" Sheppard asked. Suppressing the urge to shoot him an annoyed look, I simply nodded. "Good, just checking" I must have not been that good at concealing my annoyance at such a question. I've got it! I thought, snapping my fingers. Making sure I had their attention, I set out to give them hints through gestures. I cupped my hand, holding it to my ear as if I was listening something and then I held up two fingers.

"What is she doing?" Sheppard asked.

"I think she's trying to gesture her name… like charades. She was doing it earlier when she asked me for pen and paper" Beckett answered. I smiled, thanking the heavens for all the times I had been forced to play charades. I held up one finger. "One word" I nodded, continuing, holding up two fingers this time.

"Two syllables?" Weir asked. Again, I nodded. I pointed to my first finger, then at my ear.

"Sounds like" Beckett said. I pointed to my head as I nodded.

"I don't get it" Sheppard said.

"It's one word with two syllables"

"Yes, thank you Carson, I got that…" _This was not going to be as easy as I first planned_, I thought as the feeling to groan in annoyance grew. Snapping my fingers, I got their attention once more. I yet again cupped my hand and brought it to my ear, and then I pointed at my head while slowly nodding.

"Something that sounds like… nodding?" Beckett said. I shook my head, but did a waving motion with my hand to indicate 'more'. All three of them looked thoughtful, until Beckett burst out with a "Yes! Sounds like yes". I grinned, touching the tip of my nose and then pointing at him. I then continued with the second syllable, holding up the two fingers, but pointing at the second one this time. I once again pointed to my ear to indicate that it sounded like something. I then proceeded to point at myself while shaking my head, and then at Sheppard while nodding.

"What, sounds like me?" Sheppard asked, bewildered. I shook my head. I pointed at myself and Dr Weir, shaking my head, before pointing at Sheppard and Beckett. Seeing that this was going nowhere fast, I grabbed the pad, turning this bizarre game of charades into a strange game of hangman. I drew a line for all the letters, showing it to them. I held up one finger and then pointed to the all of the lines, then two fingers, followed by circling the lines into two groups. Indicating the first of the two fingers, I pointed to the first group of lines.

"Wait, we're playing hangman all of a sudden?" Sheppard said, confused. I nodded, tapping the paper impatiently with the pen.

"Alright, the first part sounds like yes and the second one…" Weir said, thinking out loud. _This was not working_, I thought. Getting another idea, I turned back the pad towards me, quickly drawing a quick sketch of a cowboy, with lasso and all. I held it up for them, hoping for them to make the connection between my name and the name of a very infamous cowboy.

"It's a cowboy" Sheppard said. "Hold on, how would she know what a cowboy is? Or know how to play hangman and charades for that matter?" he said to Weir and Beckett. "We found her on M3X-659" Taken aback for a moment, they all turned towards me. _Oh crap...This isn't good_, I thought to myself, clutching the writing pad to myself, as if it was a shield. What was I going to do? As tempted I was to tell them the truth, I found it hard to believe that they would actually believe me.

"How is it that you know these things?" Weir asked. Biting my lip, I turned the page on the pad, leaning over it as I did a few quick sketches. Once done, I held it up for them to see. I had done a rough sketch of the solar system with an arrow pointing towards Earth, which was accompanied by its moon, our moon. Next to that picture, I did two circles where I had outlined Europe and Africa in one and the Americas in the other. My eyes darted between the faces of the three, nervously awaiting their reaction.

"That's Earth. How do you know about it?" Sheppard asked. I could feel my heart starting to beat harder under his stare. Warily, I pointed to myself and then at the outlines of Earth. "You're saying that you're from Earth?" I nodded, not daring to look away.

"If you are in fact from Earth, how is it that you were found here?" Weir asked. Shrugging, I shook my head as I had no answer to that. Even if I could speak, I would still be at loss as to what to say. They would not believe me…I barely believed all this myself. Fighting the urge to give in and cry, I clenched my jaw as I stared down at my folded hands. I did not dare to look up at them. All I wanted was to go home, to wake up in my own bed, for this to be a dream. The threatening tears were stinging my eyes, but I tried my hardest to blink them away, to not show weakness. _Ha! Why worry about seeming weak when they're going to think you're crazy? How in their right mind would believe all this? If you were in their shoes, you wouldn't believe it either. Having read about this in fics online doesn't mean that this sort of thing is possible, or even likely._ As a tear made its escape down my cheek, I quickly wiped it away with the back of my hand.

"Here" Looking up, I saw Beckett offering me a tissue. As I nodded my thanks, something lying on one of the counters caught my eye. It looked like one of the portable computers they always showed McKay working with on the show. Feeling like smacking myself over the head, I pointed towards it. Turning, the three seemed confused as to what I meant. Sighing, I outlined a big square with my fingers and then set out to do an impression of someone working with the tablet, which meant acting as if I was holding it with my left hand while using my right to press imaginary buttons.

"You want the computer" Weir stated. I nodded, hoping that my idea would work. I had no desire to have to rely on drawing or gestures to make myself understood. If this worked, if it did not end up a catastrophic disaster like my attempt to write, then I would have little troubles communicating. As Beckett fetched the computer, Sheppard and Weir shared a look before I was handed it. Putting the computer in my lap, I took a few moments to get acquainted with the table. I soon found a write-program and opened it up, repeating what I had attempted to write the first time with pen and paper. Fortunately, the outcome was much better as what I typed in actually appeared on the screen. Pausing, I looked up at the three. Weir and Beckett were patiently waiting while Sheppard was looking at the sketches I had made in the writing pad, looking thoughtful. Finishing what had started typing, I handed the tablet over to Weir. A silence fell over the room as Beckett and Sheppard joined Weir in reading what I had written. I had not written a great deal, but I was sure that they needed a few moments for it to sink in.

"So your name is Jessie" Beckett said, being the first to speak. I nodded. "Oh, I get it now, sounds like 'yes' and 'he'. Very clever that". I could not help but to smile at that. But that smile did not last long as I look at Weir and Sheppard. Their silence was making me nervous. Glancing from one to the other, I started biting my lower lip in anticipation of what they would say.

"You have no idea how you ended up on that planet?" Weir asked. I shook my head. Taking back the computer, I wrote that I did not.

"That makes no sense" Sheppard said, sitting down on the bed next to mine.

'Yet it's the truth', I wrote. I hoped that it would not come across wrong; sometimes it was hard to get the right tone across when writing.

"You still haven't said how come you know about Earth" Sheppard said. _Oh, this is dangerous territory_, I thought. I had best to try to be as truthful as possible; otherwise it would only backfire on me later on. Here goes nothing, I thought as I started typing.

'Because I'm from Earth', I wrote. I wrote where I came from, narrowing it down from continent to country to region to the town I grew up in. I did not know what else to write, no matter what I would have written there would still be doubts and suspicion.

"How is this possible?" Weir asked, shaking her head. I shrugged, looking apologetic. I wished I knew how this was possible, because then I could hope to reverse it and go back home. However, any theories of how I ended up here were best kept to myself. Voicing any ideas would only result in opening a can of worms that did not need opening. There would be no end to the depth of that rabbit hole. Not only would I have to explain how this reality was nothing more than a TV-show, but then I would have to explain fanfiction and oh, this really should be avoided. Imagine McKay learning that he was the darling of thousands, if not millions, I thought to myself. I found myself actually amused by the potential situations that could happen. That is until reality kicked in and it once again hit me that the characters were real people now.

As little was resolved, Beckett and Weir left to attend to other more important things. Sheppard, on the other hand, remained. In his hands was the writing pad, which he was looking at. I watched him as he took a closer look at the various sketches. Turning the page, he stopped and took a closer look. The sudden tenseness in his body made me suddenly remember just what I had been sketching before Beckett had returned with him and Weir. Looking up from the writing pad, he looked at me. My heart was racing, feeling as if it was trying to break free from my chest. I grew anxious under the scrutinizing look from Sheppard. The feeling amplified when he got up from the bed and came to stand by mine. Unable to meet his eyes, I stared at my hands resting in my lap. Standing right beside me, I was at the same level as his chest, only a few inches away from Sheppard. While I had many times wished to be this close to Sheppard, now that I was, I wished differently. As Sheppard silently dropped the sketchpad in my lap, I saw that he had noticed the picture of Daniel Jackson that I had made. Taking the pad in my hands, I could not help but to follow the lines with my fingers, remembering how simple it was back at home. But now it was all so much more complicated and I did not even know if I could ever go back home.

"Care to explain how you know who that is?" Sheppard said, his voice serious. I closed my eyes as I released the breath I had been holding in. Reaching over, I typed my response.

'His name is Michael Shanks, and he's an actor where I come from'

"Is that so? He sure does look familiar" Sheppard said, as I suspected he was trying to bait me.

'Actor' I repeated, this time looking Sheppard straight in the eye. Nodding slightly, Sheppard said nothing more for a while. Turning and leaving without another word, I was left once again by myself. Sinking back into the bed, I felt so weary. As my stomach grumbled, I remembered the bowl of soup that Beckett had brought me what felt like ages ago. Giving in to the will of my stomach, I brought the cold soup closer and tried to eat some. I only managed to have a few spoonfuls before deeming it hopeless. I had no appetite, despite the protests from my stomach. Pushing aside the cold soup, I lay down, staring at the sketch of Daniel Jackson. I had not lied to Sheppard, but I had not told the whole truth either. Yet it was the fine line that I would have to balance.

_What have I gotten myself into?_ I thought as I closed the sketchpad and put it on the stand next to my bed along with the tablet computer. All this talking, or lack thereof on my behalf, had given me a headache and my chances of some aspirin were slim now that the infirmary was empty again. Before long, I had once more succumbed to blessed sleep.


End file.
